The Luck of Sevens
by Ducibus
Summary: There's me, Wellington, and Clementine. I don't know how you're intrigued by this. Probably because one of us is named after a fruit. Oh, also, there's some apocalypse business going on. But I think it's the fact she's named after a fruit that you're still reading.
1. The Name's Caelum

The name, my name that is, is Caelum, Caelum being the Latin term for "sky" or "heaven", both of which are pretty enough, except when they're represented in a word that sounds like "Kayla". Which, just as a little tidbit of info, I have been called too many times beforehand.

I'm supposed to be telling a story. Ah, yes, you want me to get on with it, so you may escape into the life I wish to trade with yours. My life currently exists in Wellington, this refugee camp for survivors during this shit period of time in the world. I prefer referencing it as a period of time, because that means there will ultimately be an end, which is comforting. One never knows what the future holds, and they either become terrified of the unknowing or comforted by it. I'm the latter.

See, flashback three years ago, I was a normal kid. Just graduated from middle school, this high-powered prep thing with every type of technology you could imagine. That lifestyle rubbed off on me; my phone is still in my backpack, regardless of the fact I haven't been able to charge it for months at a time.

And then my life went to shit. Sorry, I curse. On the bright side, I give you fair warning to my language. It's a give and take relationship.

I lost my home, my friends, my family, the life I was so used to was snatched away. Give me a surprise exam over that crap (alternative to shit because I want to spruce things up a bit).

It sucks losing everyone and everything you've known. Your moral compass does not tell you what to do in black and white anymore. Nope, now it's just greys that screw you over regardless of what choice you choose. I've watched people go sick with infection, I've had to shoot more people than I've ever wanted to, healthy and infected, and I've said goodbye too many times for the word to keep its sentimental value.

But Wellington was my break. At least, it was meant to be. A final instruction to me from all those who passed on beforehand. And I got lucky here. Even with overcapacity, I was allowed to be with my own little home. Home being in the corner of the giant rectangle fence the refugee is in, in the leftovers of a giant storage container, with canvas sheets acting as the front wall and door, and a bunk bed made from scrap metal.

It comes with a catch though. When Edith, my favorite border patroller, told me about being a foster "teenager", I was excited. See, I'm not "appropriately" young enough to be a kid in the program, but I'm not old enough to be a parent either. So basically, every time a kid comes through without a group or parent, they're thrown into my house until someone in the town takes them under their wing. Preferably someone over twenty-one. I'm sixteen, so I've never had a fighting chance to keep the kid I look after.

At the first kid, a five-year-old named Ty, I was happy. I stayed up a lot of nights when he had nightmares, and Edith came around lot more when he was in my house. We had a lot of good memories together. It absolutely sucked when he left. Then there was 14-year-old Katrina, whom I philosophized with into the early morning hours and shared a lot of funny moments with. She left as well. Pain doesn't really get any better, nor do you get numb to it. Then it was Charlotte who came and went. Then Jason. Kasey came next. Last one to leave was Avery, just over two months ago.

The thing that sucks about when they leave and they finally have guardians is that, despite promises to stay together, they don't. I don't know, maybe they give me the cold shoulder because we're not under the same roof anymore. It's not like they can really hide in Wellington, since it's only got so many people and children.

Despite my protests to opt out of the program, Edith can't help me. It was a deal we made when I first came though, and I have to respect that. That being said, it's been a helluva long time since Avery left. I'm sixteen and not getting any younger. Maybe she's finally let me out of the program, simply without telling me.

(._.(-_-(^-^)-_-)._.)

During the mornings in Wellington, everyone is woken up at precisely 8 o'clock. Everyone wakes up, gets dressed, and then, depending on what row of tents or shacks you're in, that determines when you eat in the mess hall. Being the last row and also being in the corner qualifies me for some shit timing. I've learned not to be picky.

Everyone is fed by 9:30, which is when the activities start. Activities being the things like:  
>a) stockingtaking note of what's in storage (riveting)  
>b) border patrolscouting outside the walls (exciting, but only for older people. Namely, not me.)  
>c) helping out at the medical building (I wasn't too fond of this so Edith put me down as "fall risk around blood" so I wouldn't be assigned to it)<br>d) greenhouse (hella boring)  
>e) helping to prepare the meals (like the greenhouse, but messier)<br>f) weaponry (like taking stock, but you also learn how to fight weapons)

And I think there's more, but I don't feel like keeping track. There are no off days unless you're sick or have young children to look after (foster program didn't get me out of that, if you're wondering).

I had greenhouse duty today, but I talked to some people to cover for me beforehand (read: bribery) and instead knocked off for the rest of the day, heading back to my home to sleep. It's odd to be so used to taking care of myself. No one to tell you what to do, but no one to guide you, either.

Pushing back the canvas scraps, I take my first steps inside, kicking off my shoes, lighting a lantern, and then flopping onto the lower bunk, hearing the springs squelch underneath the old mattress. Nobody really pays attention to me unless I ask for it. Which is something I'm trying to avoid.

Then I roll off of my mattress and head to my backpack, pulling out my busted knife and a little tool kit. Before the outbreak I used to work with wire and make jewelry, and since then my skills have come in handy.

I lie down on the cool metal floor and begin unwrapping the leather ties, seeing where the metal split. Some people are gun people. Some are bows. I'm more of a knife person. I once had a sword, and let me tell you, that was a beautiful weapon to use. Sadly, it was steel and it got bent into such a way it couldn't be repaired.

As I tediously unwrapped the leather and remove the metal shards, placing them carefully on the floor so none will be lost, I hear footsteps crunching on the thick snow outside.

_Crap. _And I throw everything into my backpack, tuck it under my bunk bed, and blow out my lantern. I'm not particularly scared of what could happen if I'm found, but it's just instinct that tells me I probably should be.

That's when I peek out of the canvas and out onto the now-snow covered paths that run haphazardly through the refugee camp. And that's when I catch sight of Edith, comforting a girl in a blue jacket with something that looks like a green burrito in her arms. She's wearing a hat and yet has another hat teetering off the edges of her finger, the finger connecting to the hand that's holding the bundle tightly.

The girl's obviously distraught. I can tell that by the way she tries to surreptitiously wipe her eyes and the way Edith keeps a hand protectively on her back, saying words of encouragement, probably telling her awful knock-knock jokes.

It's the same way she comforted me when I came through, at least.

But I let my hand fall from the canvas, sitting on the lower bunk, thinking of how I planned this scenario out for months. I'll get the kid to and from her jobs, but other than that? I'll pass. Call me selfish, but it sucks building a friendship and having it all go to waste.

"Your friend, AJ, can stay with Rob and Angie." Rob and Angie and little Kai, who's three, and has no idea of privacy, and who has burst into my room and has caught me shirtless too many times to count. It's kind of a double-edge sword to live right across from him. At first I was embarrassed, and then I told Angie about it and she laughed and apologized. Kai's gotten better, but of course, there are always slip-ups from time to time.

"But-" The girl begins, and Edith only replies, "You can come visit him any time you want."

"Of course you can!" Angie replies cheerfully. "While you're out working, I'm staying home already with Kai. I don't mind looking after another little boy." She laughs at this, and Edith tries to coax an answer out of the girl, "Is that alright with you?"

"I can visit him any time, right?" She asks, and both reply almost instantly, "Of course."

I move from my lower bunk to the canvas pieces once more, pulling back the equivalent of curtains to see what's going on. The girl seems reluctant to hand over the burrito-bundled baby, and finally Angie asks, "What's got you worried?"

"That I'm not with him." She responds, and Angie and Edith exchange a look. Finally Angie kneels in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "And what could I do to make you feel better about that?"

The girl turns to look at Edith, who simply replies, "We'll try this method. And if you don't like being away from AJ, we'll switch it. Sound good?"

She nods, and Edith turns her to face my space (or lot, or home...can we just refer to the space as my bunker?), "This is where you'll be staying."

"Am I going to be alone?" She asks, and that's when I step out of the canvas curtains, down the rickety steps, holding out my hand, "I'll be your roommate."

"This is Caelum. Clementine, Caelum."

_Clementine. Huh. _Clementine returns the shake, but her eyes look at me in a different light. The kid's sizing me up. Good. We both are wary of one another.

As physical appearances go, she's got skin the color of the Nesquik chocolate powder I used to use for hot chocolate. Dark curly hair tucked under a cap, and two little pigtails out the back.

At least we both share the same black hair color. My eyes are blue though, and my skin's more the color of tan cement. Yep, marvel at those descriptions.

"This is my place. You get top bunk." I reply, as all three of us head inside. I'm certain I can feel Edith's eyes boring into the back of my head for not cleaning up a little better, but at this point, the threat is lost.

Clementine glances around, not so much wary now as curious, and Edith steps forward, taking my arm as if it's a casual thing, "I need to have a word outside."

Outside in the cold and snow, breath coming out as vapor, she narrows her eyes at me, "I know you're not happy about this situation."

"Yeah, no duh." I reply, putting my hands in my pockets, and she glares at me, "Caelum, we made a deal."

"We did. But you said nothing about how I had to treat those kids I look after. I simply care that they eat and drink enough, know where facilities of the activities are located, and then, other than that, I'm free."

"Don't you dare twist my words like that." Edith warns, and for a matter of seconds we're at a standoff, glaring at one another, almost the same height, but differences magnified. Finally I relent, "Sorry."

"You know why you have this room. I want you to look after Clementine. If she so much as tells me that _you, _missy," she pokes my shoulder for emphasis, "haven't been helping her, I will put you back up into the regular orphan's home."

"The overcapacitied-crap?" I ask, and Edith nods, "Yes. Just like all the other kids who come by without a group. I cut you slack, so don't you forget it."

We're both quiet for a minute, and finally I close my eyes for a second, shrugging, "I'll look after her. But I'm not staying up for nightmares."

"You did it with Tyler." Edith remarks, eyeing me, and then, adding softly, "I did the same thing for you."

"Yeah. I remember." Yep. You have caught me. When I came through, I had nightmares for months. Edith actually stayed in my bunker during those times. It's an embarrassing thing to have and remember about when I was fifteen, but I'm trying to shove it aside.

Again silence, and Edith searches my face, "I know it's different that this is another kid."

"Really?" I scoff, and she sighs, "Depending on this situation, as soon as Clementine leaves, I'll let you keep this bunker, and you'll be out of the program."

"Great!" I grin, clapping my hands together, and she glares at me once more, "That shouldn't be any excuse to treat her differently than the rest of the kids you've had."

I roll my eyes, "Whatever."

Edith gives me a look, then hands me her pass, "I want you to take her to the medical center. She's got that mark on her face that I want them to look at, and a physical wouldn't hurt either."

"Anything else?" I ask, pocketing the pass, and she nods, "Take her to the warehouse. New clothes aren't such a bad idea."

I wait and look at her earnestly after this pause, and finally she rolls her eyes, "And you can get something as well. Put those puppy dog eyes away."

We both head up the steps to where Clementine lies atop the top bunk, still wearing everything, passed out. Edith and I exchange a chuckle to this, and finally she murmurs, "Let her sleep for now. Go when she's woken up."

(._.(-_-(^-^)-_-)._.)

"Wha...what's going on?"

I look up from where I sit cross-legged on the floor, piecing together the knife shards. The lantern pops and crackles in the side, and casts a homey glow across the bunker. Clementine pushes herself up into a sitting position, wincing as she puts pressure on the arm on the side where there's a nasty amount of blood.

"I'm taking you to get a physical." I remark, and she raises her eyebrows at me, "Where's Edith?"

"She had to go back on border patrol."

Clementine nods and wipes the sleep from her eyes, then begins climbing down the rickety ladder to where I've rolled onto my feet and stand up. She follows me out of the bunker and down the steps, and then begins walking behind me as we make our way to the medical center.

Something tells me she's not usually this quiet, and as I turn back to face her, she looks away. More crying, I assume. Understandable, at least.

The snow crunching and squelching under my feet reminds me of years ago, when snow like this would make the whole grade cheer upon the announcement of school closing early. Now it's just a nuisance. You know you've grown up when snow doesn't make you excited, but rather roll your eyes and grown.

The medical center stands across the warehouse and greenhouse. We call the setup the 'trifecta' or the 'holy trinity' between us teenagers.

I push back the split in the fabric to the medical center, which is this apparatus composed within a giant canvas tent. It looks like a circus tent, but then you learnt hat it's a medical center when sickness and health hang in the balance, and surprise-the fun is gone.

There's about fifty beds in here, with old curtain separating each one to give the illusion of privacy. Someone glances up as soon as I step through with Clementine, "Do you have permission to be in here?"

"I have a pass from Edith." I remark, holding up the simple card. The woman nods, and then raises her eyebrows, "What's the problem?"

I gesture back to Clementine, "She's new and needs a physical, along with examination and treatment to her face and shoulder." I sound fancy, don't I?

"Follow me, then." The woman stands up from her desk in the front, and Clementine and I fall in step behind her as she leads us to one of the beds with fabric walls. Clementine crawls onto the bed cautiously, while I stand in the corner.

"The doctor will be in shortly. If you can remove your jacket and shirt so he can examine your shoulder, that would be of much help. I'm Kalinda, by the way." Kalinda flashes Clementine a comforting smile, and gives a nod to me before letting the fabric cover the front of the room.

I turn to face Clementine, arms crossed over my chest, "Do you want me to stay outside?"

"No. Can you stay here?" Her eyes are a brilliant gold, something I haven't noticed before. But the fear is evident in her tone, so I nod, "Alright. I'll stay."

She unzips her jacket and places it on the bed beside her, then takes off her hat with hesitancy, placing it on her lap.

Clementine grimaces as she grips the front of her shirt and tries to pull it away from her chest, the blood having been long dried and causing it to stick like a second layer. I uncross my arms and move behind her, seeing her strain, and remark, "I'll help."

I keep a hand on her shoulder to steady her and myself and slowly pull the shirt from her back. The blood makes a brilliant glue, and with one last tug I wrench it free from her shoulder. She cringes, and then I ask, "Need more help?"

Clementine nods silently, gritting her teeth, and I curl my fingers around the hem on her double-layered shirt, pulling it up and over her head. Then I place the shirt on the bed beside her, and she crosses her arm instinctively over her chest, which is bound by Ace bandages by the look of it. Before doing so she puts her hat back on.

"Do you know he's going to do?" Clementine asks, keeping her arms crossed, and I shrug, sitting beside her, "Probably listen to your heart and lungs, clean out your shoulder and cheek, and...holy shit. What the hell's on your arm?"

It's a fresh scar by the look of it, the edges of it pink while the new skin in the center is white. Clementine looks down at it, then holds it out in front of her, "Dog bite."

"Seriously?" I ask, and she nods. I can't help a grin from growing on my face, and she eyes me, "Why do you find it funny?"

"Because I was bit by a dog as well."

"Where?"

She's so eager that I can't help my saying of, "On my ass."

Her eyes widen and her face goes red, not sure of what to say next. Then I chuckle, and point to my face, "Right here."

"I don't see it." Clementine remarks, eyeing my face, and I put a finger on my cheek, stretching it back so the curve of the scar shows more evidently, "It was before the outbreak, so it's pretty faded."

"You're a new face!"

We both turn to face Dr. Tristan, who gives Clementine a grin, "I must say, I haven't see you around here."

"She just arrived today." I say, and he winks at me, "Now, Caelum I recognize."

I don't feel like going into depth with that comment (just a lot of injuries over the past year involving me being a dumbass). He pulls up a chair and sits in front of Clementine, "So, what seems to be the problem?"

"My face and my shoulder." She replies, and Dr. Tristan nods, turning her face and keeping it steady so he can look at it properly, "At this rate, it looks like a wound that hasn't been able to heal properly. I'm assuming you've been out in the cold a lot?" To this she nods.

"Kalinda," he pulls back the curtain to face the nurse, "Can you get some peroxide and tape, please?"

Clementine's eyes almost bulge out of her head at the mention of peroxide, and I can't help but feel sympathy. Kalinda returns swiftly with the supplies, and Dr. Tristan wipes down her facial wound with the peroxide before sealing it with white tape. Clementine's hand doesn't unclench from the side of the bed throughout it all.

"Now, I'm going to need you to lie down for this next part." Dr. Tristan says, and I pick up her jacket and shirt and stand up, going to the side. Clementine lies down, and Dr. Tristan calls for towels, which he places under her shoulder.

"There's no other way around this. This is going to burn like hell. Just keep still, alright?" If you haven't already picked up, he's blunt.

Clementine nods, her hands curling around the mattress, and that's when Dr. Tristan trickles the peroxide over her shoulder. As soon as the liquid touches the torn flesh, she lets out a cry before squeezing her eyes shut and slapping a hand over her mouth. A tear dribbles out of her eye, and I move forward, taking her other hand, which she squeezes to death. Seeing the newest addition to the bunker writhing in pain stirs up more sympathy within me, and I'm having a hard time trying to not be more than I'm required.

"Okay. That's done." He gives a sigh before scooting back and leaving, the wound still bubbling and foaming. Clementine nods, and then she drops her hand from her mouth, looking up at me, "What's next?"

"Probably stitching." I reply, and she takes in a shuddery breath, a new version coming into play. "O-okay. I'm ready."

Dr. Tristan returns with a needle and something that looks like thread, and begins sewing up the hole left by the bullet. Clementine continues squeezing my fingers until they've gone purple in the tips, and then we both help her to sit up so he can stitch up the exit wound. She sits with her legs over the edge, and I can't see her face.

"All done. You've done an excellent job." Dr. Tristan ties the last knot, giving Clementine a pat on her shoulder, and then he stands up, turning to face me, "Caelum, make sure she isn't putting too much pressure on that side. Heavy-lifting or pulling will cause the stitches to tear, so I'll take her out of the activity list for a week until it's healed."

"Can I stay home with her?"

"You're always looking for a way out." Dr. Tristan laughs, and then he shrugs, "I don't see why not. But when she's at home, you _must _be taking care of her. None of your goofing off."_  
><em>

"Ah, you've got me mistaken with someone else." I grin, and he glares, "I'm serious. If I tell Edith, you know exactly where you'll end up."

"Fiiiine." I agree reluctantly, and he smiles, "Good." Then he turns to face Clementine, "It was nice meeting you. Sorry if I caused an unforgivable amount of pain. I'll see you two around."

With that he leaves, and I help Clementine get dressed. She stands up afterwards and holds her arm by her side. I suppose having a tear by your shoulder makes walking with your arm loosey-goosey hurt like hell.

Kalinda gives both of us nods, and then hands me back Edith's pass, "That better return to her."

"Yeah, yeah. It will." With that, we leave.

(._.(-_-(^-^)-_-)._.)

"You dressing for something fancy?" I ask, watching as Clementine eyes the little selection of dresses the warehouse has. She shakes her head, and then, "You don't want me, do you?"

The rawness of her question makes me go silent, and I raise my eyebrows, "Where'd you get that from?"

"Edith and the doctor both talk to you like I'm a chore." Her words are cold, and I lay a hand on her good shoulder, "Look, I'm sorry."

"So...you don't want me?" Her voice catches, and I fall quiet. Did I really want Clementine? I mean...geez. It's been three months since I looked after Avery, and maybe because Edith reminds me that this will be my last kid.

"You don't have to say anything. I get it." _Bravo, Caelum. Two hours into this and you've already hurt the kid. _

"Clementine," I begin, and she turns to face me, glaring, "What else do you have to say?"

"I'm sorry I've been treating you like that." I say, and she shrugs, "What does it matter?"

"Because it's not right that you think you're a chore. You're not. I've just been acting like a jerk." I kneel, putting my hands together in prayer form, "Oh, please, forgive me."

I separate my hands and bow to her, putting my forehead to the floor, "I am not worthy."

My display brings a grin to her face, and then I stand up, offering my hand for a fist bump, "We cool?"

"I guess so." She returns the fist bump, and then I glance at her, "If you want a dress, you can get one."

"When I was little I wore them all the time." She says, her tone soft and eyes distant, as if remembering a pleasant memory. Then she shakes her head, "I don't want one."

"You sure?" I ask, and Clementine nods, holding a stack of new-old clothes to her chest, "Yeah. I'm good."

So we leave the warehouse and head down the roads to the bunker.

(._.(-_-(^-^)-_-)._.)

After changing clothes, we head out to dinner, and then head back. I haven't learned too much about Clementine since we met, so I don't know how to spend the time. Ty loved cars, Katrina loved corny jokes, with Charlotte it was books (and fandoms), Jason it was repairing things (weapons or electronics), Kasey loved comic books, and Avery was always making instruments out of the craziest objects.

And what about Clementine, the newest? I eye her as we walk back to the bunker. It's obvious she loves AJ, but past that? I don't know her story. And she doesn't know mine.

But when I wake up to her in tears to pain or something greater that first night, I don't groan and roll over like how Edith and Dr. Tristan predicted. Instead I kick off my blankets and roll onto my bare feet in the dark, crawling up the rickety ladder to where I hear her crying. And she doesn't say anything, doesn't even looked surprised at seeing me, but doesn't react when I adjust her pillows so her shoulder rests more comfortably, or turn her head so she's not lying down on the sore side.

"Caelum...?" She manages, opening up her gold eyes, to which I grin, "If I didn't want you here, I would've left you to keep crying."

Another smile, and I bring the blanket up to her shoulder, watching as her tears continue to fall.

"I miss my old group." She manages in a small voice, tears still dribbling down the sides of her face, and I sigh, "I miss mine too."

And I spend that first night on the ladder, keeping watchful eye to whether she's in pain or in tears, my arms crossed on the her mattress, chin plopped down, legs and feet still on the cold metal.

_Here's to hoping seven's a good number. _I think to myself, letting myself smile before closing my eyes.


	2. First Day

"Caelum...?"

Edith's cold hand wraps around my shoulder, as I turn to face her lazily, "Huh?"

"Did you spend the whole night standing up?" Her tone is incredulous, but I simply wipe my eyes and nod, "Yeah."

Her doubtfulness turns to a smile, and then she messes my hair, "Get to bed, then. You've still got a whole week off."

"Right. That." I glance back at Clementine, who sleeps soundly, almost curled up into a little barm, probably in a vain attempt to ward off the chill. Upon taking my first step off of the ladder, I stumble backwards, and Edith catches me quickly, "Whoa. Watch yourself."

"Yeah. That." I yawn, still leaning heavily on her, and she tries to shove me towards my bed, "C'mon—just—walk—!"

I face-plant into my bed, punch-drunk, and let myself laugh.

Edith groans, "I cannot even imagine you with alcohol."

"Oh, it'd be more fun." I giggle, and then crawl onto my mattress, curling an arm under my pillow and slipping underneath the worn blankets.

"What time is it?" I ask Edith, eyeing her before letting my heavy eyelids rest shut. She replies with a simple before they close, "A little past six."

"I'm gonna sleep past breakfast." I say, voice smothered by my pillow and weak by fatigue.

I hear a gentle laugh, "You're only worried about food, huh? We'll bring something back. Rest up."

With that, she messes up my hair again before leaving, and I fall into a peaceful sleep.

(._.(-_-(^-^)-_-)._.)

"CAELUUUM!"

If you have never had an energetic three-year-old with the passionate voice of five hundred firetrucks screaming in your ear, well then, let me introduce you to my paradise.

My eyes immediately flash open, "Geez—!" and I put as much distance between myself and Kai, launching the back of my head into the metal wall of the bunker. The contact of my cranium into steel is loud and I rub the sore spot as he giggles and dashes off, gleefully oblivious, or perhaps gleeful with my pain.

"Geez, could you—oh. You're up." I rub my eyes and glance at Clementine, who wears one of my hoodies and her new-old fleece pants. Funny how she's already stealing my stuff. I'll let it pass for now, and then I'll take it back.

Clemente has the burrito bundle in her arms again, and eyes me warily when her eyes aren't trained entirely on the green burrito, "Yeah, I'm up."

"Someone's done a 180." I say softly, still remembering the kid who cried well into last night. But for most kids, it's their way of being strong, simply by shoving their feelings aside and being or acting completely independent and self reliant. I saw it with Katrina and Charlotte and Jason. Meanwhile, little tykes like Ty aren't afraid to show emotion or say what they're feeling.

But with Clementine, I feel like this time around she's the one who actually _is _instead of just _pretending _to be so.

"Good morning, Caelum." Angie greets me with a smile, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Clementine and the baby. What was the kiddo's name? Ace? Allis? It begins with an A, I know that, so give me some credit.

"Edith told me to bring you something back." Clementine remarks, handing the bundle to Angie before standing up. Then she paces over to her stack of clothes and hands me a thermos of some sort, "Here."

I uncap it and come face to face with pale, pasty kernel-like things in their own little soupy mixture. Oh lovely, it's, "Oatmeal."

She hands me a plastic spoon as well and I sit on the edge of my bunk, hesitantly shoveling the mixture into my mouth.

"You're not a fan, are you?" Angie questions before laughing, and I shake my head, "I'll be honest, I'm not."

I turn to face Clementine as she sits back down, "And what about you?"

"I don't mind it that much." She replies, and then takes AJ from Angie's arms. I finish up the oatmeal rather quickly, and place the thermos below my bed, "Does anyone know what time it is?"

As soon as the words leave my mouth I hear the gracious sound of the bell, for which I assume it's for lunch.

AJ's eyes flash open as soon as the bell rings, and his tiny face sets up to crumple before Clementine makes a face at him, widening her eyes and sticking out her tongue. Instantly his anger is lost, and I grin, "Nice work."

"I just don't want him to cry." She replies back, in an air of simplicity and honesty. Then she hands the baby to Angie, who gives Clementine a gracious smile, "It's almost time for the boys to go down for their naps."

"Do you want us to take Kai to the mess hall?" I offer, and she eyes me, "Really? You would?"

"Sure. C'mon, buddy." And I pluck Kai off the ground and plop him on my shoulders. Clementine makes a face, "You're still in pajamas."

"And I care because...?"

She falters, and I smile, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Let's go eat."

(._.(-_-(^-^)-_-)._.)

In the mess hall, they're serving sandwiches, which makes up for the whole oatmeal fiasco. Kai stays content on my shoulders as Clementine and I shuffle through the line, grabbing our sandwiches and filling our water bottles.

Some of the tables are filled with noise, loud, obnoxious, but laughing as well. Others are sullen and quiet, with bags evident under the eyes of their residents. Families sit together, parents and children, groups (or at least what remains of them), and then, I'm the only one riding solo. At least, now there's Clementine under my wing. And Kai on my shoulders, but that's different.

"Why don't you try making friends?" I suggest, gesturing to one of the tables mainly composed of kids. They're loud, obviously, and a little reckless, but they're also laughing and grinning. Makes me think of the cafeteria at my old school, everyone happy and excited to get a break from the hecticness of the academics. Especially if they were serving a good lunch.

Clementine glances over at where my line of sight is, but grimaces and looks back at me, "I don't like being with kids my own age."

"And why would that be?"

She shrugs, facing her water bottle, "Because...then people treat me like them."

"You don't like being treated like a kid?"

"I don't like being treated like a baby. I can take care of myself." Clementine corrects, glaring at me, to which I grin (and probably make the situation worse) by adding, "Then whose house are you staying in, huh?"

She falls quiet and I laugh, elbowing her, "C'mon, kiddo. Make fun of yourself a little."

Clementine stays, and I turn to face forward, "Well, you can sit with me and my group then."

As soon as the words escape my mouth, I find myself facing the voice of Sal, "Oh look, you've brought another small child."

"Oh my goodness, you sound like a pedo." Kory, his sister, groans, face-palming out of shame for being related. Tabitha (Taff for short), chuckles, and then waves us over, "C'mon, then. We'll keep Sal at bay."

"Look at those promises that won't be kept." Aaron remarks, rolling his eyes but smiling just the same as he butters a piece of bread. I sit down and eye the lot of them, placing Kai beside me and handing him his half of a cheese sandwich, "How do I stay friends with you people?"

"Because we're the only people you got?" Taff suggests, and Kory shoves her, "Way to dampen the mood."

"Aw, Caelum doesn't mind being the lone wolf." Taff adds, giving me a grin, and I roll my eyes. Then I turn to face Clementine before gesturing to all of them, "Sal and Kory are brother and sister, Aaron's a backwards southern hillbilly—" "Hey!" "—who's also dating Kory, and Taff is the brains."

"I'm the brains because I'm Asian, aren't I?" She glares at me pointedly, and I grin, "Payback for the lone wolf comment."

I face Clementine, who tries to absorb all the new faces and names with a dubious look on her face before she settles on asking, "How long have you guys known each other?"

"I came first." I remark, to which Aaron adds, "Like an annoying big sister."

"Irony is that she's the youngster." Taff grins, and Kory raises an eyebrow at her, "I thought you were the youngest."

"Nope. Not anymore."

"You're younger than me."

"Well...okay, yes, but—" "Maturity level does not mean your age has significantly risen." Sal notes, grinning at catching Taff's supposed bluff.

"You and Taff are mature...right." Kory scoffs, while Aaron gives Clementine a shrug, "We've known each other for a while."

Clementine nods and picks up her sandwich slice, holding it aloft as if it's not appetizing. I don't feel like chastising the kid for being picky, but to my relief she starts eating.

"You owe me." Taff steals half of my sandwich, and Aaron grins, reaching for the other half, "Me as well. We both covered for you yesterday."

"Oh, so now I'm left with nothing?" I ask, eyeing the two, and Taff takes a big bite out of my sandwich, "Yup!"

I make sure Kai's eating, and then Clementine slides me the other half of her sandwich, "Here."

"You're too nice to her, Clementine." Kory smiles at the girl, and I push the half back to Clementine, "You need it more than I do."

Clementine eyes her piece, and then hands it back to me one last time, looking smug, "_You _didn't eat all your oatmeal."

"She's got you beat." Taff remarks in a grave voice, and I laugh, rolling my eyes and taking the half, "Fine. You got me."

(._.(-_-(^-^)-_-)._.)

I hold sleeping Kai in my arms as Clementine and I head back to our bunker. He's passed out sufficiently after eating, and even I feel more satisfied than before with the measly oatmeal. Clementine doesn't bear a smile on her face, but she seems more comfortable. It's amazing what a good meal can do.

"Oh, look at him." Angie smiles at her little boy, then takes the toddler from my arms, moving to set him on his bed, "Thanks for taking him to lunch. He wouldn't fare well missing a meal."

"No problem." I remark, and then Clementine adds, "Thanks for looking after AJ."

Angie nods to both of us, and then chuckles, "Caelum...you look like you've been hit by a bus."

"I feel like it too. I'm gonna go sleep it off." I give both of them waves before ducking out of the tent. Once safe inside my own bunker, my shoes are kicked off and I flop back onto my bed, bringing the blankets up to my shoulders.

It's quiet for a few minutes, and then Clementine steps inside, eyeing me, "You sleep a lot."

"You sleep too little." I retort, and she sits cross-legged on the ground, "What's there to do?"

"What do you want to do?"

Her face changes, not quite as mature as she's let on, but more like a kid, "What can I do?"

"If there was more snow, we'd play Panda Ball."

"Panda Ball?" Her eyebrows are knit together in confusion, and I sit up, eyeing her, "Didn't you even play it in school?"

"No."

"Not even during recess?"

"Usually I just swung on the swings." She admits, giving a shrug, and I roll onto my feet, tugging my shoes back on. They haven't even lost any heat: that's how quick it's been since I've taken them off.

"Well, you want to explore?"

"Explore?"

"Yeah. Out past the walls. Back with all the zombies and what not." I grin, and then roll onto my feet, "You've got a gun, right?"

"Edith made me drop it before coming in here."

"Well, we're going to see her anyway, so don't worry about it."

Clementine seems hesitant, then nods, standing up. "O...okay."

(._.(-_-(^-^)-_-)._.)

"You two seem to be getting along quite nicely." Edith notes as the doors close behind her. I shrug, shoving my hands into my pockets, "Oh, of course. She's already stealing my clothes."

Clementine looks away, but I give her a shove, "Loosen up. I'd steal yours if we were relatively the same size."

"I gotta say, the height differences are startling." Edith admits, walking backwards to grasp a fuller view of us. I place an arm around Clementine's shoulders and pull her close, noting her confused expression, "She's not that short! She's just...fun-sized."

"Her head barely reaches your shoulder." Edith chuckles, and then sighs, "I suppose it could be worse."

But when I let Clementine go, she's bearing the faintest outline of a smile. Perhaps I'm just teasing myself with this expression I think she's bearing.

"So what's this idea of expanding Wellington?" I've only been around for some of the moves of Wellington...it's a helluva production, especially the whole method of constructing things without having zombies attracted to the noise and commotion.

"That's where we run into problems." Edith remarks, crunching on the snow, leaving me and Clementine to either follow in her paths or dodge other obstacles. Funny how both of us dodge the footsteps she's left.

"You can't just take down a wall." Clementine eyes the two of us. "That's insane."

"Good thing they don't, then." I grin, and then Edith takes over explaining, "We construct a wall farther out and then connect it to an existing wall, knocking down the wall in the middle.

"That sounds like it takes a while." Clementine says, and I nod, "Yeah. It does."

"How's your shoulder feeling?" Edith asks, to which the girl shrugs (probably not the best movement), "It's alright."

"Dr. Tristan's a godsend." I grin, to which Edith laughs. "That's because he's the only one who's been able to patch you up all the time."

Clementine eyes me up and down, as if the injuries I've had will suddenly appear on me. After a minute of silence, she looks forward again, "What'd you do to yourself?"

"Nothing major." I begin, just as Edith sighs, "Where do I begin, Clementine."

"I just want to say, in my defense," I try to get in my words before Edith busts another gut laughing, "Half of these incidents were not caused by me."

"You're being too generous. I'd say at least eighty percent of them are because of you."

"No, because Taff and Aaron were the ones who thought they had good ideas."

"And _you _were the one who went through with it. I don't even know how you lasted this long in the apocalypse." Edith rolls her eyes at me, and I turn to face Clementine, "Please keep these statistics close. Taff and Aaron were the cause of about sixty percent of injuries, Kai's another five percent, Kory's a fifteen percent...and that leaves..."

"Twenty percent of your injuries were caused by yourself."

"That sounds sufficient enough." I give a shrug, and Clementine smiles, then asks, "What'd your friends do?"

"Broke my fingers, sprained ankles, bruised my knees so badly they were the colors of the rainbow...Edith, what else did I do?"

"You got the flu pretty badly...I think all five of you got it."

I nod, stepping forward to hold back a branch for Clementine, still thinking about my injuries. Edith turns to face me and raises her eyebrows, "I feel like everyone gets the flu."

"I've never gotten the flu." Clementine mumbles, and I sigh, "You are _lucky_, then. It sucks ass."

"What sucks ass is taking care of _you_." Edith groans for emphasis, and then gives me a shove, "Watch your language."

"Shit. Ass. Damn." I grin, and she swats me upside the head, "I'm serious."

"Watch me!" I challenge, and Edith falls back into step with Clementine as I begin walking backwards in front of them, arms outstretched, "C'mon, what's the worse that can happen?"

As if the universe hates me, the heel of my sneaker catches on a root and I fall flat on my back. The snickering tells me enough about what the two think of me, and both come to my side, Edith bearing a look of disappointment while Clementine bears a grin.

"Can you help me up?" I plead, to which Edith swats a branch to launch more snow onto me, "No. Get up."

I can't help but laugh anyway, and then Clementine offers her hand, "Here."

"You're too nice. Kory was right." I remark, taking her cold hand and hauling myself up. I almost pull a mean trick, but instead hold off on it. The trick being pulling myself up and sending her to the ground simultaneously. But I assumed it'd be mean with her shoulder and all.

I don't notice how far away we are from Edith until she waves us over. Clementine's almost shivering beside me, to which I give her a grin, "Need to warm up?"

She nods, and my grin grows wider, "I'll race ya!"

I try to give Clementine a lead, I really do, but something inside of me takes hold as I dash with everything I've got. Luckily she keeps the speed, and we almost slide to stops beside Edith, which is good, considering the fact she's stopped on the edge of a pond/lake/river thingamajig.

"This is why they want to push it back. A new water source, especially after all the snow melts." Edith comments, as all three of us stand in silence. The new water source would be massive, but the catch is, "How do you pull the wall out that much?"

"That's just the thing." She sighs, and then glances at Clementine. I do as well, and the girl's blanched significantly, almost looking sick eyeing the frozen lake.

(._.(-_-(^-^)-_-)._.)

We eat dinner with Taff, Aaron, Kory, and Sal again. They're good friends, and awesome at working Clementine into the group so the girl doesn't feel so much like an outsider. I can tell she's still having a hard time trying to open up, but at least there's Taff to fill up any awkward silence. And plus this time I get a full meal, with Taff or Aaron taking it from me.

When we head back to the bunker, both of us are feeling exhaustion. I kick off my shoes and change into warmer clothes to last the night while Clementine checks on A.J. Then I slip out of the bunker to let Clementine change. After looking after a few kids, you know she's at that age where privacy is kind of growing more and more important.

Or maybe it's so in case there's a breach in the wall the zombies get me first while she's safe inside the bunker. Y'know, whichever reason.

By the time I head back inside, Clementine's snuggled under her blankets on her side, eyes closed, in a limbo between sleep and consciousness.

"You ever gonna take that hat off?" I tease, and her eyelids slowly open, taking me in, and then she shakes her head, burrowing herself deeper into her pillow and blanket. Like a good person I bring the blankets up to her ears, and slip back down the ladder, blowing out the lantern.

"Clementine?"

My first thought is that she's asleep, and then, after a few moments of silence, "Yeah?" A voice, laced thick with sleep rings out.

"Goodnight, kiddo."

"'night, Caelum."

And I lie myself down and attempt for sleep. Of course, it's only a matter of hours or minutes before I rouse myself awake, and tug on shoes and sit outside on the faded steps. Wellington is sleeping. There's obviously people up and about, but they're a few rows over. There always seems to be something going on in the exact place you're never located, right?

Except...those are the people who drink and smoke and gamble (I don't know with what, though...).

Truth is I hate nights. I love sleeping, but I hate dreaming. Nightmares are something I prefer. Odd, huh? I was the little kid who ran crying into my parents' room because of a dream of E.T. or Yoda in the middle of the night. But now I'll take them over anything.

My logic may be hard to understand. You see, dreams show and remind you of a life better, or a life you once had. With your parents, your family, your old groups, your friends, in a world that seems like a complete 180 from where you stand now.

But with nightmares...you're terrified, but you're always reminded upon waking that life could be worse. That things could've gone to shit so long ago.

I guess I fall into that genre of PTSD or insomnia or something. Sleep used to be easy to come by, but not during the night. Not when everyone else sleeps. My body's just special.

And my hand goes to the chain around my neck, the little capsule of ashes. Funny how I feel closer to a person when my fingers are wrapped around an empty bullet containing the physical essence of their life, in the middle of a cold night, drinking freezing water until my throat and chest and stomach feel like they can burst with all the burning from downing the cold liquid.

And my head bows and my chin touches the edge of my hoodie and I find myself in tears. It happens a day or so into getting a new roommate. You distract yourself, you're busy, and then everything hits you like a ton of bricks as soon as you drop your guard. You find yourself thinking about everything you can tell your group and family, and then you realize they're gone.

And it still hurts. Never stops. I squeeze my fingers around the bullet and cry, and that's when a voice asking, "Are you okay, Caelum?" almost scares the living shit out of me.

I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands, and turn to face Clementine as she plops herself down beside me, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them in a vain attempt to keep the heat.

"I'm not. Surprise." I deadpan, trying to go for a chuckle, but failing.

She eyes me up and down with golden eyes, and then remarks, "I get bad dreams too."

"What are yours about?" I ask, and she puts her chin on her crossed arms, facing the snow tinted blue from the moon. "People dying. Or having to kill people."

"All reasonable things to have dreams about." I add, and she sighs, "I wish I didn't have them."

"Can you imagine four years ago? Just that year before everything happened?"

Clementine shakes her head, her gold eyes blinking hard. "I can't."

"I want to go back to it, though." I can't help but laugh at myself, even if it's done ruefully. "Look at me. Thinking that I can escape all of this."

"My friend said something once. About what's the point of life when you can't even enjoy it." Clementine remarks, and I eye her, "You're very mature for your age. I don't know if anyone's ever told you that."

"Usually they call me a brat or a little kid or something."

"Well, call them assholes or something." To this, I get a grin in response, and we both look out, our breath coming out as vapor.

More silence, until, "Aren't you cold out here?"

"Not too bad."

"It's warmer inside." Clementine provides, and I glance at her, "You trying to convince to go back in there?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to." And she rolls onto her feet and heads back inside, leaving me back to my thoughts.

As I think I'm about to pass out on the steps, a blanket is wrapped around me, and Clementine sits back down beside me. I glance down at her, "You need the sleep more than me."

"You stayed up with me-" she yawns, then wraps the blanket around herself tighter, me putting an arm around her protectively, "-so I'll do the same for you."

I smile, and give her good shoulder a squeeze, "You're not half bad, kiddo."

"I try." Her muffled voice rings out, and I laugh.

Then she nods off, head on my shoulder, breathing even, and I scoop her up, heading back inside the bunker, placing her on her own bed (precariously, might I add), and then heading back down to my own, feeling tired and sleepy and a little bit better than beforehand.


End file.
